


Made of Lava

by amyfortuna



Series: 2015 Season of Kink Card 2 [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:19:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fingon plays a game of 'the floor is made of lava' with Maedhros and invites him into his cozy bedfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made of Lava

**Author's Note:**

> This fulfils my Season of Kink square for "First Times."

"The floor is made of lava," Fingon called out as soon he saw Maedhros peeking in the door. He was rewarded with a grin and a quick leap to the nearest article of furniture, which happened to be a chair next to the door. 

Fingon was prepared. He had gathered together all the pillows and blankets he could find, draping all the large quilts over his four-poster bed. He'd snuck a fair amount of pastries out of the kitchen, making sure that Maedhros' favourite strawberry tarts were among them, and had filled a carafe with wine and placed it within reach on the bedside table. He'd also put massage oil and towels within convenient reach. 

"Lock the door," he said, and Maedhros quickly complied, twisting to turn the lock, throwing Fingon a bright smile as he did so. Of late, his smiles seemed to be all for Fingon. Every time they were alone together and Maedhros smiled at him like that, he'd experience a most peculiar swooping sensation in his stomach, like he was falling breathlessly through the air, unsure of where he would land. 

No one else made him feel like Maedhros did, and over time his feelings had only grown. They had met first when Fingon was a mere thirty years old, absorbed in study and athletics, and Fingon had felt an uncontrollable urge to show off for this cousin - just this one, all the rest were mere good friends - and to always be at his very best when Maedhros was near. 

"Come to me, cousin," Fingon said, laughing, his head poking out from the cave of quilts. "Don't touch the floor!" 

"Is that bookcase sturdy enough to take my weight?" Maedhros asked in all seriousness, glancing carefully between the bed and the furniture around the room, clearly plotting a path. "And that rug, is it safe, or lava too?" He gestured to a small thick rug just beside the bed.

Fingon decided to make things hard. "The bookcase should be fine, but the rug is definitely lava!" He tossed Maedhros a challenging grin. "Don't fall!" 

Maedhros laughed. "Get ready, I'm coming!" He pulled off his boots, setting them on the ground next to the chair, and his socks along with them. 

Fingon pulled one of the quilts aside to admit Maedhros, and Maedhros carefully stepped from the chair by the door to the desk beside it. There was a chest of drawers a quick jump away from that, and Maedhros mastered it easily, landing safely on the empty wooden surface. 

Next came the bookcase, and Maedhros leaped. It was a long leap, and the bookcase swayed dangerously. It was a much narrower surface to land on, and Maedhros didn't quite get his balance before he had to jump again to the bed. 

Despite all efforts, he landed on one foot on the rug. "Save me, Finno!" he said, waving his arms, and Fingon, laughing, reached across and hauled him up onto the bed. They fell together into the pillows, Maedhros on top of Fingon, Fingon holding Maedhros like he never wanted to let him go. 

"I'll always save you," he said, and Fingon heard the tenderness in his own voice as though it was not his voice. All the emotions he'd kept wondering about for all the years they'd known each other suddenly coalesced, and his whole body seemed to respond to Maedhros' nearness and warmth. 

Maedhros was looking down at him. He had been clutching Fingon's shoulder but slowly let go and moved to slide a hand into his hair, petting it gently, an overwhelming tenderness in his eyes. The moment was charged with some kind of brightness, a wonderful tension that sent the blood fizzing in Fingon's veins. Distantly, he noticed that he was hard against Maedhros - who must surely feel it - and then became abruptly, suddenly aware that Maedhros was hard too. 

"Oh," he said, and lifted his mouth, eyes sliding shut. The warmth of Maedhros' lips on his was the next thing he felt, a kiss so careful and gentle that it washed all through Fingon like a wave. It was so quiet in their dark warm cave that Fingon could easily hear the tiny blissful noises Maedhros was making, that he himself was echoing back into the kiss. 

They were both breathing hard when the kiss finally broke, and Maedhros stared down at Fingon in wonder. "How long have you wanted, how long have you known...?" he said, trailing off to nuzzle into the curve of Fingon's throat helplessly. 

"Since forever," Fingon said hastily. "And just right now." There was no other way to put it - he'd loved Maedhros for as long as he'd known him, and this felt so right, a natural continuation and expansion of the love he already knew. All the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, and they were all stamped with the feel of Maedhros' lips on his. 

"I as well," Maedhros said. "Finno, I..." He pressed his mouth to Fingon's shoulder, and Fingon shivered with delight, feeling an overwhelming, desperate need to get closer, ever closer. "Findekáno, I love you so much." 

Love. This was love in all its majesty, all its beauty and power, swooping down upon him with the force of a mighty gale, sweeping him into its embrace. Fingon could only breathe, "Maitimo, I love you too. So much," before the need to kiss him again became more desirable than air or speech. He rose up, rolling them over so he was on top, and took Maedhros' mouth firmly, pressing his tongue between Maedhros' lips. 

Maedhros moaned. In the confines of their clothes, their erections still managed to meet, and the feel of Maedhros' cock sliding against his own nearly undid Fingon. Acting on pure instinct, he tangled his tongue with Maedhros', and slid a hand between their bodies, desperate to feel Maedhros' cock. 

Maedhros' hand scrabbled for his, and together they wrenched Fingon's trousers down and off, onto the floor, into the lava. The first touch of Maedhros' hand on his cock was nearly too much; Fingon stifled a loud groan and settled for a sharp intake of breath, falling back off of Maedhros into the cushions. 

"Get those clothes off," he said, not caring that it was practically an order, wanting to see Maedhros completely naked in the dim light that filtered through the hanging quilts. 

With reluctance, Maedhros let go of him, and complied, pulling off his tunic and throwing it to the floor as well, then wiggling out of his tight leggings. Even the simple act of undressing - it was in no way the first time Fingon had seen Maedhros naked - seemed all transformed into something innately seductive, and Fingon's mouth dropped open in wonder at the paleness of Maedhros' skin, in contrast with the bright red of his hair, and the tiny freckles which dotted across his face, arms, and chest. Fingon wanted to kiss every one of them. 

Naked at last, Maedhros turned back to him, and smiled. "You should remove yours as well," he said, and moved to help Fingon take off his tunic. When they were both fully naked, Fingon reached for Maedhros, and they curled down together, side-by-side, into the warm nest of pillows, kissing and kissing. 

The contrast of their skin was something Fingon could not stop wondering at, the dark gold glow of his own tangled up with the pale whiteness of Maedhros', a study in opposites. Their hair too, mingled on the pillows between them, Fingon's hair so dark it was nearly black contrasting with Maedhros' warm copper tresses. Maedhros against him felt so right that Fingon could have almost cried with the beauty of it. 

Maedhros' eyes, grey like storm clouds, were alight with joy, and Fingon could not stop pressing his mouth to every part of him that he could reach, kissing mouth, throat, cheeks, forehead, ears, and, delicately, eyelids, over and over again. Fingon's hands were busy, curving around to stroke up and down Maedhros' back, or dipping lower to grasp him by the buttocks and press their bodies together. 

It was Maedhros who reached between them again, and took hold of Fingon's cock, stroking it firmly, as though he knew what he was doing. Fingon gasped breathlessly and pressed his face into the crook of Maedhros' shoulder, heedless of all thought save Maedhros' hand on him. 

"Let go, let it happen," Maedhros breathed, and "I love you so," he added. And it was that - the passionate warmth in his voice - which tipped Fingon over the edge, hurtling helplessly into orgasm, the only steady thing in the world the feel of Maedhros' hand on him. 

Maedhros' heart was beating fast against him, and Fingon stirred after a moment of blank bliss, sliding a hand down Maedhros' flank. Maedhros made an inarticulate desperate sound in his ear, and Fingon smiled. 

"I want you to fuck me," he said softly. 

"Findekáno!" Maedhros breathed, sounding half shocked and half about to come right there and then. 

Fingon let go of Maedhros, and reached to the bedside table for the oil, hand briefly emerging from the quilts. The air outside their nest felt colder somehow, and he quickly retreated back into their warmth. 

"In theory -," Fingon began, but was interrupted by Maedhros's smile. 

"Well, according to the reading I've done, we -," Maedhros broke off abruptly. "You've studied this?" 

Fingon felt himself grow hot. Somehow lying in bed naked with Maedhros about to fuck him wasn't half as embarrassing as confessing he'd _read books_ about how said fucking was meant to go. "Yes, I read _Sexual Customs of the Outer Lands_ and _A Guide to Elven Anatomy_." He blushed even harder. "And then I experimented on myself, just in case..." 

Maedhros laughed, and then kissed Fingon soundly. "I did the same," he confessed. He took the bottle of oil from Fingon's hand, and pressed Fingon back into the pillows, spreading his legs. The intimacy of the position was both nerve-racking and erotic; Fingon felt himself beginning to get hard again as Maedhros simply looked at him for a moment. 

Finally, slick fingers probed at his entrance, and Fingon willed himself to relax. Maedhros' eyes were on him, watching for any wince or flicker of pain, but there was none. It felt so good that Fingon was almost surprised at it, and then Maedhros' fingers - two inside him now - brushed against _something_ that made him gasp and tremble with pleasure. He put his head back and rocked into Maedhros' fingers, angling to get that feeling again. 

Maedhros pressed a third finger into him, applying more oil, and then finally a fourth. Despite the scare stories he'd read in _Sexual Customs of the Outer Lands_ , it all seemed quite easy and pleasant, and even the very slight stretching feeling was nice rather than otherwise. 

"Please, Maitimo," he said. "Please do it." There was a note in his voice that wasn't begging, but rather ordering, and Maedhros' breath caught to hear it. He obeyed immediately, setting the oil down after coating himself with it, and pressed forward into Fingon. 

"Findekáno, _oh_ ," he said, and Fingon raised his head again, looking Maedhros in the eyes as bit by bit Maedhros' length sank into him. The feel of him was perfection itself, like coming home, like there was nowhere either of them wished to exist beyond the hangings of the bed. This was all in all - this was everything - and Fingon clutched Maedhros' shoulders, kissed him again and again, and moved with him as he began to thrust. 

Fingon was fully hard again now, and slid a hand down to touch himself. Maedhros whispered soft things against his skin, inarticulate promises, exclamations, broken bits of poetry. Fingon answered as he could with breathless moans and Maedhros' names, spilling over his lips and onto Maedhros' skin. He learned that Maedhros loved teeth at his throat, and pressed lovebites there, glad he tended to wear high collars. 

They moved together and every thrust seemed to send Fingon higher. He felt like he was floating, like they two were in their own world where they were one and together. He was overwhelmed and overwhelming, and Maedhros was gasping out his name, shaking in his arms, eyes falling closed as he was overcome with ecstasy, pulsing into him in great waves. 

Fingon came with a shout this time, spurting onto Maedhros' stomach as Maedhros collapsed over him. For a long moment they lay together, panting, still joined. 

Maedhros' eyes were shining when he opened them again, and the look he gave Fingon was very tender. He raised a hand, still shaking, to Fingon's face, and stroked him softly, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

"My love," he said, hardly more than a breathless whisper, and Fingon could think of no better answer than the same two words, given back again. 

They were curled up together in blissful warmth, in the quiet darkness. With a smile, Fingon dragged a blanket over them, and for a long while they forgot all about everything that existed outside of their bed, as if the floor had been truly made of lava.


End file.
